


Roran

by LittleCharlie



Series: Nari [2]
Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Family Loss, Genderbending, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Rebuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 17:44:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19408219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleCharlie/pseuds/LittleCharlie
Summary: Roran has no idea what Nari is going through leagues away. He has no idea she is still alive. His family is dead, and yet he must carry on.Except...Strangers have come to Carvahall asking questions; strangers who were last seen in Carvahall just before Garrow and Nari died. Could they have the answers that Roran needs? The answer to the question: why his family?





	Roran

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait! I wanted to let you guys know that I AM working on Chapter 19 for Nari, as well as going back to revise the earlier chapters. I'm also making a comprehensive timeline for the story so that I don't confuse myself (part of the reason for the revisions).  
> While you wait for more of Nari's story, here's a look at what Roran's doing (though he's about 3 weeks ahead of Nari at the moment).

_ "Well, I guess this is the last time we'll see each other for a few months."  
_ _ "You'll be back here before you know it. Take care, and come back soon." _

If Roran had known that would be the last conversation he would ever have with his little sister, he would have held her tight and not let go. He wouldn’t have left at all.

He’d arrived in Therinsford just two days before Baldor had brought the worst news he could have imagined. His father, dead. His sister, missing and most likely dead. His farm, burned. And a man he’d once thought kind and wise in the middle of it all.

It was Brom who had alerted the town of Garrow’s injuries, and led Gertrude back only to find him already dead. It was Brom who had disappeared into the trees to search for Nari and then never returned.  Had the old man been preying on his sister for this long? Had he only waited for his chance to separate her from her protectors? Some of the people in Carvahall whispered it. They said her visits to the old man should have been stopped long ago. Roran could only shake his head. No doubt, the old man had gone looking for his sister. Whether Brom’d found her dead or not found her at all, Roran didn’t believe he was alive any more than he believed Nari was.

Roran had wanted to believe, when he’d first returned. He had gone back to the farm, weeping and cursing the others for giving up on her. He’d followed her footprints to the clearing she’d used to hide in when she was small. There were giant gouges in the earth, as though something had torn at the ground. Still, she’d managed to survive it, whatever had happened. She’d been moving slow when she left, possibly injured, but alive and alone. She’d headed north rather than south, an indication that she was panicked or disoriented. He’d followed her footprints on through the day, losing them several times when the snow had washed the prints away, until he found another clearing, filled with the same gouges. The area near the stream was violently disturbed. She’d been attacked, probably while drinking or bathing. He’d headed back to Carvahall in defeat.

He had only returned to the farm once since then, with other men from Carvahall to salvage whatever could be found in the house and barn. Beyond that necessity, he’d been unable to bear the sight of the loss of his home and the loss of his family. His father had died here. His sister had fled in a panic, only to die, hunted in the woods she’d loved so much. There were no explanations as to why anyone would want to hurt either of them. They'd been cared about, despite Garrow's gruff demeanor and Nari's pride.

It was too much.

But he had to return now, if he had any hope of rebuilding in time for Spring. If he had any hope of carrying on, any hope of living the life Nari should have been able to have, any hope of making his father proud, he had to go back.

Roran trudged up the hill that led to his home for the first time in four months. He stopped, squinting through the sun. He would not be able to stay very long; it was only hours until sunset and he still had to make the trek back.

When Roran reached the top, he paused to look at the work ahead of him. A corner of the house still stood, though it was crumbling and charred, but the rest had been flattened and was already covered with grass and weeds. Nothing could be seen of the barn. The few acres they had managed to cultivate each year were now filled with dandelions, wild mustard, and more grass. Here and there, stray beets or turnips had survived, but that was all. Just beyond the farm, a thick belt of trees obscured the Anora River.

He would have to rebuild the house then. Better to tear down the remains and start anew than try to use the charred wood. He’d have to get hay to lay down and kill the weeds inside. The barn would have to be rebuilt too, and new animals bought or traded for. The fields would have to be cleared and weeded. The beets and turnips would provide a few seeds, but he’d need more if he wanted a good enough harvest to impress Sloan.

__ “She says she can’t wait to see you and that she’ll count the days. That she wants none but you. Getting serious, aren’t you?”  
_ "This is about marrying Katrina."  
_ __ "I'd hoped you would marry soon. It will be good to see this family growing again. Katrina will be lucky to have you.”

A pang of agony ripped through his chest. He hated himself for being so selfish, for thinking only about impressing Sloan and marrying Katrina when his father was dead not even half a year and his sister had not even had a proper burial.

That was where Nari had fallen from a tree while learning to climb. There was where his father had taught him how to shear a sheep for its wool. This place had been his entire life and more. It had been his past... and his future. His father, Garrow, had once said, “The land is a special thing. Care for it, and it’ll care for you. Not many things will do that.” Roran had intended to do exactly that up until the moment his world was ruptured by a quiet message from Baldor.

Baldor, who might have been his brother, had Nari lived. He and his family had certainly been acting like it these past few months. Horst had allowed him to stay with them, working at the forge to pay for his keep and earn a little money besides. It was the only reason he’d be able to afford seeds and animals. No doubt, Baldor and Albreich would agree to help with the rebuilding if he asked.

He wanted to weep, he wanted to snarl and stomp away. He wanted his family back. But he needed to rebuild, and so he would. He grabbed the small ax from his belt, a salvaged piece of the old farm, and began to hack at the corner of the house still standing. He carefully laid the wood down where the fields once were, hoping to flatten and kill the grass and weeds beneath. He grabbed the remained of the charred wood from the rest of the house and the barn, carefully using it to cover the fields while avoided the precious beets and turnips. Having a house was important, but it would take awhile to build the house entirely. He needed the fields now.

Sweating despite the chill in the air, Roran stood back. He would have to return with others in order to get the house and barn started. They would have to be done before the first snows. He would need to bring a plow and Horst’s mare would make the work faster. The weeds would have to be removed and seeds would have to be planted.

There was a lot of work ahead of him.

Turning away from the farm, he headed back for Carvahall.


End file.
